


Red, Passionately

by microwaveslayer



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: And she wants to castrate a demon, Blood and Gore, Corpse Desecration, F/F, Grelle actually cares for people, Grelle is vengeful as heck, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Rape, Probably OOC as all heck, mostly canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5999779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microwaveslayer/pseuds/microwaveslayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grelle noticed her. She cared for her. She helped her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Contrary to popular belief, red is not as flashy as expected.  
Grelle heard from Ronald, who heard from a girl in General Affairs, who heard from an intern out on a collection, that William’s new wardrobe was absolutely atrocious. Naturally, Grelle had to see it for herself.  
Unfortunately, the fairgrounds were larger than Grelle had hoped and, after a while, all the tents seemed the same. She turned another corner and found herself back at the performance tent.  
Pursing her lips, Grelle watched the human performers walk right past her. The runts made Grelle cringe. Perhaps the red-haired man might be nice, but his hand was a bit off-putting.  
But that woman there wore just enough red to catch Grelle’s eye.  
Grelle found herself envious of that woman’s chest, of her tiny waist. More red would’ve suited her. A gown, perhaps.  
Grelle followed her. Something about her spoke of heartache, of pain and passion. Grelle was just dying to know.  
She waited until the woman was isolated from her fellow performers and dropped her cover. Reaching out, Grelle snatched the woman’s hand.  
The woman lashed out, swinging her fist at Grelle. Instictively, Grelle let go, avoiding the woman’s fist.  
“I like fiery women, just not that fiery,” Grelle said.  
The woman tensed up, discomfort in her eyes. Not that that was anything new for Grelle.  
“What’s your name?” Grelle asked, tilting her head.  
“B-Beast.”  
Nervous. Grelle put a hand on her hip. “Strong name for a pretty face.”  
Beast’s hand went to her belt, fingers on the handle of her whip. Raising a hand, Grelle gave her a smile.  
“Don’t worry about me,” Grelle said softly, stepping forward and taking her hand. “I simply wanted to know why you looked so sad.”  
Beast froze up again as Grelle took her hand. Grelle ran fingers up her arm, over her shoulder, and ran a finger over her collarbone. Best’s face was turned away, but Grelle knew the sound of fear.  
She had crossed a line.  
Grelle backed away from her, letting Beast have a moment. When she sunk to her knees in the mud, Grelle removed her red coat, draping it over the woman’s shoulders. She knelt, placeing a hand on Beast’s back.  
“You should get some rest,” Grell said.  
Beast sniffled, leaning against Grelle. “It was him, one of the new ones. Black. He was a regular demon.”  
Grelle stiffened at the word. She nodded. “It’s alright. Let me help you.”  
She helped Beast up, keeping a hand on her waist to steady her. Beast kept close to Grelle, muttering a direction every so often.  
Grelle helped Beast into her tent. Beast handed Grelle her coat and turned her back to Grelle.  
“I . . .”  
“I understand,” she assured Beast.  
Grelle set to work on the laces, leaving them loose enough to pull the bodice off.  
Beast slipped it off and Grelle turned away, getting the woman a nightgown. Grelle helped her dress for bed.  
“Thank you,” Beast said softly, looking down.  
Grelle pulled off Beast’s fishnet gloves and shook her head, “You seemed upset. I wanted to make things better.”  
Beast nodded, sitting on her cot. She sighed, putting her face in her hands. “I just . . . I feel so stupid.”  
“It’s not,” Grelle assured her, sitting next to her on the cot.  
Beast looked over. “How would you know?”  
“I know because I’ve had it happen,” Grelle told her, putting a hand on her back. “But you’re not stupid for it happening. This Black fellow seems cruel.”  
Beast nodded.  
“I could get back at him, if you want,” Grelle offered.  
Beast looked up at her. “I think . . . I think I would like that. He wore a suit all the time, like a butler or something.”  
Grelle nodded. “You should rest.”  
Looking down at her hands, Beast asked, “Stay with me?”  
Grelle sighed, “I will.”  
Beast pulled Grelle close, resting her head on the Reaper’s shoulder. Grelle felt warm and glad to be right here.  
For the moment, Grelle could ignore the cloying scent of death that clung to this fragile, mortal woman.


	2. Chapter 2

“Mally, daughter of the scullerymaid Amelia. Born May 22, 1864.”  
Grelle’s voice felt heavy, but she pushed up her glasses. There could be tears later. And after tears, blood.  
“Died February 9, 1889. of multiple lacerations and blood loss due to an explosion.”  
She adjusted her glasses, taking in the Record before her. How tragic it was. Some of the duller parts weren’t her taste, but human Records were rarely exciting.  
But then he appeared in her memories. Grelle cringed at his honeyed words, his restraint, his touching her.  
“In the end, you fell into the snares of the worst man possible,” she noted offhandedly.   
Silently, a part of her wished for this woman to be at peace. There was hardly enough of her left to bury and Grelle knew the servants unaware of her presence would burn any evidence.   
Leaping down from her hiding place, Grelle knelt near the remains. From the gore, she lifted the scarf, holding it close for a moment. It would need a good cleaning, surely, to make sure the blood didn’t ruin it.   
She stroked the soft fabric, sighing softly.   
Something deep in her cried for blood and vengeance.

She made sure Sebastian knew she was here. She ran, deep into a hedge maze the butler thought was so aesthetically pleasing. White roses. How quaint.   
She made sure he followed her deep among the vines, her scythe at the ready. When turning corners, she gave him a hint of her coat or her hair, sometimes revving her scythe to draw him toward her. In the centre of the maze, they stood across the area.  
“You,” the butler said, sighing with annoyance. “And here I thought you’d given up.”  
“A lady never gives up,” Grelle said, revving her scythe. “I came for a little revenge.”  
Sebastian, silverware ready, narrowed his eyes.  
“You see, taking advantage of a woman is an absolutely unforgivable crime,” Grelle said.  
Sebastian took one look at the scarf around her neck and scoffed, “Her? She was a pawn, nothing more. I simply did what was necessary to serve my master.”  
“It’s unforgivable,” Grelle repeated.   
Sebastian tensed, as if expecting her to lunge at him. Instead, Grelle took a step toward him, disappearing and reappearing behind him.  
“The worst crime,” she whispered in his ear, shoving her scythe through his abdomen, “is taking advantage of a lady at her weakest.”  
Gore splattered onto the grass and the demon went limp. He’d be fine, Grelle knew, but she wanted him to suffer. Pulling the blade of her scythe from his chest, she circled his body, contemplating which would go first.  
She hummed, scythe coming down on Sebastian’s neck. With little resistance, it tore through his flesh and Grelle set it aside to pull his head from his neck. She set it up so that he could watch as she continued to drive her scythe down, tearing his body limb from limb, bone from bone, flesh from flesh.  
When she was done mutilating him, she scooped up his head, staring deep into his blank eyes. She scowled and drove her thumbs deep into his eye sockets. His eyes gave simultaneous sickening pops, fluid gushing over Sebastian’s cheeks and Grelle’s gloves.  
Bloodlust sated, she dropped his head and turned to leave.   
She noticed a single rose, its petals stained with blood, dyed red with vengeance. Grelle pressed her lips carefully to the blossom before leaving.  
She needed to clean herself up and give her clothes a soak.


End file.
